Chapter 4
River
My father answers the door, his hard, crass voice now jovial as he talks to the person on the other side. Unfamiliar voices, each one very distinct, answer him. One stands out as cold and controlled; the other, raspy and erratic.
“Welcome to my home,” he greets them warmly.
“Elbert. Nice of you to invite us,” the erratic voice speaks. My body shivers and my heart races. Immediately, I’m filled with dread. There’s more to tonight than a simple dinner. I know that. Somehow, I don’t think the chicken is the main course tonight.
Their voices get louder, and I hurry to finish setting the table, rushing to the kitchen to bring out the food.
Dad wants it on the table and ready, and it’s not.
Even though he’s the one who rushed me away to get dressed before finishing.
It’s not a point I’ll fight with him about; after all, it’s not like it would matter.
“An alpha is always right. An omega’s opinion means nothing.” My father’s favorite quote.
I’m just stepping back into the dining room, casserole dish in hand, when I’m hit with the most putrid smell. My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline as my father stands there with two men, their arrogant, disgusting gazes all trained on me.
Their scents wrap around me, a mixture of sulfur and rotten eggs. My stomach rolls, and I want to puke as my eyes water.
“This is my beautiful daughter, River.” My father boasts proudly, and I fight rolling my eyes at him.
“That she is,” the one on the left with the raspy voice says. He’s attractive, maybe in his late twenties, early thirties, with shaggy black hair and tattoos on his knuckles. An alpha.
“You failed to say she was damaged,” the cold and controlled alpha says. His dark eyes pin me in place as he straightens his tie.
My eyes widen in confusion. Why would my father mention anything to them about me? I still don’t understand why they’re here.
“She’s fine; it ain’t like we’re going to be looking at her face, Miles. Besides, Elliott likes her,” the erratic one says, as he runs the pad of his thumb along his lower lip.
They’re both looking at me, sizing me up, staring me down like I’m a piece of meat. I don’t like it and suddenly I wish I was anywhere but here.
“Elliott’s right; her scent is intoxicating,” the man in the suit says, his voice cold and unnerving. Miles. The other guy called him Miles.
Elliott? Who the fuck is he? And how does he know what I smell like?
“She’s a good cook as well. Just wait until you have a taste of her casserole. River will make a good homemaker and nurturer. She’s been watching the neighborhood kids since she was just twelve.” My father pipes up as if he’s proud of me, like I’m a show pig or something.
“Dinner’s ready,” I tell them, my head low, knowing that my father will hate that I’m speaking out of turn. I don’t have to look up; I can feel his eyes burning holes through me.
My father moves to the chair at the head of the rectangular table, and Miles takes the spot at the opposite end. There are four chairs left. Two on either side of the table. None of them are an option of where I want to sit. I’d much rather be out of this house with my brother.
I hesitate, not knowing where to go or what to do. Sulfur surrounds me, invading my body, causing me to gasp for breath. A firm hand lands on my shoulder, gripping me firmly, causing me to whine under the pressure.
“Come on, Sweetmeat, you can sit on my lap,” then he winks. “I mean next to me.” His other hand slips along my lower back, gripping my hip tightly as he guides me toward the chair closest to Miles, lowering me into it as he takes the one beside me.
I’m trapped between these two men, ones who have my body thrumming with nervous energy. The room is suffocating with alpha big-knot energy, and I’m fighting to not cower beneath it.
“Ray,” Miles calls his name, almost as if in warning. “Don’t scare our little lamb.” He pauses as a sadistic smile forms on his face, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Yet.”
“Let’s eat. Dig in, men.”
Ray, since I know his name now, reaches out, takes hold of the serving spoon and dishes a heaping mound of the casserole onto his plate, before adding a smaller portion on mine. Normally I’d be pissed that someone would think that measly amount would feed me, but suddenly I’m not hungry.
I pick up my fork, picking at my food, stabbing a piece of chicken with the tines of the fork and chewing it.
My golden hair falls down around my face, giving me a tiny barrier from the men in the room.
One who will no doubt beat me once he’s given the opportunity and two who would eat me if given the chance.
I’m dying to ask why they’re here. They don’t look like the type who would hang around a drunk like my father. A man who gambles all his money away, begging on the street corner for change as if he were homeless. A sinking feeling in my gut says this isn’t going to end well for me.
My father clears his throat, his fork mid scratch across his plate.
“So, about the deal. Are the terms acceptable?” he asks, a slight quiver in his voice I’m not used to hearing. My father always reeks of dominance, but now he falters, cowering to the two men.
My eyes immediately dart to him, wide with unknowing fear. Deal? Acceptable terms? What is he talking about?
“Elbert.” It’s all Miles says. Just my father’s name as he glares at him as if he's thinking about how many ways he could rip his heart out and feast on it as if it were a prime piece of steak. “There’s a time and a place. Let’s enjoy this delicious meal before us made by your beautiful daughter.”
My father nods his head and continues to eat.
But not before he steals a glare at me, one that tells me I’ll be paying for them correcting him later.
My father always wants to be in control, and right now he’s not.
In his eyes, these men are treating him lower than what he is, as if he were some weakling, beneath them.
The sound of a chair dragging across the floor, slow and deliberate—a low, gritty scrape that scratches at your nerves like fingernails on glass—pulls my attention from my father.
It cuts through the room, through my bones, a warning skirting against my soul.
I try not to flinch, but my breath catches anyway.
Then, he shifts closer.
Ray, the one that doesn’t quite seem to be fully there.
I can feel it, the air changing, thickening, his scent wrapping around me, claiming me.
And then, his arm brushes against mine. Just the faintest of pressure, but it’s there.
His body is too close now, the heat of him pressing into my side like a cattle branding rod, claiming my space as if he was invited.
I freeze.
My skin pulls tight where he touches me, almost as if it’s trying to crawl away from him. My stomach coils, sharp and sick. Every instinct in me screams to move, to run, but my legs are like cement. The table, the men, all seem to press into me like a trap.
The dinner was as unexpected as the men. The scrape of the chair was bad.
This is worse.
He’s not touching me now, thankfully—but the absence of his contact is worse than the contact itself, because it means he could do it again, at any second.
And the burn in my chest?
It’s not just fear. It’s panic, trapped inside me, waiting to ignite because I know that there is more to tonight than I even know.
“Eat, Sweetmeat, you’re going to need your energy,” he growls low and hungry into my ear.
I want to vomit. To run. I want my nest. The comfort it gives me. My razor blade.
I’m not sure what my father has up his sleeve, but I’m scared. This isn’t going to end well for me, I just know it.
“Eat,” Ray growls again, his dominance creeping over me, and as much as I hate it, I comply and do as he says. I hate alphas.
My fingers close around the fork, but they don’t feel like my own.
Metal clinks awkwardly against the ceramic plate as I fumble to spear a bite.
I raise it to my mouth, chew, and swallow.
I’m so on edge that I can’t even enjoy how good it tastes.
But I keep eating, not wanting to hear the man beside me in my ear again.
When their voices begin, they’re not directed toward me.
Initially, it’s just boring. Business, I assume from the bits and pieces I pay attention to. Some jobs that didn’t go according to plan. Money owed.
But something in my father’s tone is off, catching my ear, and I sit up straight, paying more attention.
“When is her first heat expected?” Miles asks, his tone calm and cool. No crack or stutter in his voice. Just smooth and confident.
No. Please don’t tell me this is what I think it is.
“She turns eighteen in three months,” my father says, his chest puffing out in pride.
“And she’s pure?” Ray angles his body toward me, his tongue gliding across his bottom lip, eyes full of hunger.
“Yes. She hasn’t been with anyone. No boyfriend,” my father answers.
Miles lets out a low growl—a dry, knowing sound—and Ray leans in, voice dropping just slightly. “It’s going to be so sweet breaking you.”
My fork scrapes the plate in reaction as I swallow hard.
“You like that, Sweetmeat? Knowing that virgin pussy is going to bleed for me and my brothers?”
I pretend his words don’t affect me. I don’t look up. But I know he’s fully aware of his effect on me. That he can hear my heart beating frantically.
“River will make an amazing omega for your pack. She’ll maintain your home and bear you many children. Future heirs for your business.” My father continues to ramble on and on about me and what an asset I’ll be to these men, but I tune him out as I process what he said.
He’s offering me to this pack as their omega. No, this can’t be. I had a plan and it didn’t include my father at all. Heat suppressants and running were what I intended. Not this.
My body trembles, and I fight to hold back the tears. I won’t fall apart in front of them.
“No need to sell us on her, Elbert. Elliott already has. Three months. We’ll want her before then.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I violently shake my head. “No. I can’t. I have school and I don’t want a pack.”
My moment of power is short-lived as Miles reaches out, gripping my chin with his hand and turning it toward him in one quick motion. I whimper under his power.
“Apparently, your father is mistaken about how obedient an omega you are. But it’s a flaw that will quickly be corrected when you are ours.
And make no mistake River, you are ours.
As far as school goes, it’s useless. You can go until we take you, but education isn’t something you need in order to fuck and have children. ”
I want to scream, but I’m frozen, my eyes locked on his dark caramel ones. No matter how hard I try to keep from shaking, I can’t help it.
“Go, leave us to discuss the details,” Miles orders as he lets go of my chin.
I don’t hesitate. I’m ready to be free from them. My hands grip the edge of the table, and I push my chair back before standing on unsteady legs. Shooting my eyes to my father, I give him a silent frantic plea, but it’s useless. He’s made his decision.
Moving swiftly across the room, I leave, but not before hearing my father speak.
“This wipes my debt clean?”
He used me to pay his debt. Selling me like I’m a piece of meat.
Tears well in my eyes.
Sweetmeat. That’s what the crazy one called me. The name makes so much more sense now.
Once I’m in the hallway, I run, faster than I’ve ever run before, straight to my room and shut the door behind me. It’s not much, but at least it gives me a sense of safety. Of security. And once I’m in my nest with my blade, I can take away the pain I’m feeling.